


In His Footsteps

by bukkunkun



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Dress Up, Gen, Jack being an absolute cutie, i am not coherent right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a prompt on the RotG Kink Meme.</p><p>Prompt: Sometime after the movie, Jack's bored, and at the North Pole, and he decides to try on North's jacket, and hat. All my love bonus if he makes himself duel swords and pretends to be North. Just something adorable about that.</p><p>Jack doesn't always find warmth all that terrible. There are times where he actively seeks it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Footsteps

**Author's Note:**

> I... I have no idea what I was doing when I was writing this sorry not sorry
> 
> Enjoy it, I guess...?

It was far past his bed time. Of course, not that he _had_ a set time for sleep, but he had told North that he was going to, and yet here he was, poking his nose into the man’s office. He shouldn’t be there, really, but the sight of that big, heavy-looking deep red jacket sung over the top of the table was far too tempting for Jack to resist.

It was far too deep into the night, but the boy’s mind was still very much awake. What harm would a little midnight fun do, right?

Peering at it from his place at North’s office’s door, Jack’s blue eyes narrowed into slits. The man wasn’t around, right? He could do what he wanted, right? North had said so himself.

“ _This is your home now, Jack,_ ” the man had smiled at him warmly, big, work-calloused hand warm against his back, much like a father’s reassuring presence. “ _You are free to do what you like here—just don’t cause too much trouble, alright? It’s almost Christmas—you know what could happen if that doesn’t push through!_ ”

Half-grinning to himself, still so unsure, Jack stepped into the empty office, just a little closer to the coat. The tiny elves scampered in past his bare feet, giggling and gibbering in their little garbled language as the attacked the vulnerable plate of cookies that had been left half-finished on North’s table. Jack paid them no attention as he approached North’s fur-lined coat.

Unsure, he reached for it, warily looking around, still paranoid if the man was around or not. Only when his fingers brushed the black fur around the collar (lightly frosting them with sparkling flakes of ice) did a smile cross his face and he relaxed.

North wasn’t around, it wasn’t like he was going to get caught doing this, anyway.

His grin widening, Jack picked up the large coat and slung it over his shoulders, marvelling at the size and the incredible warmth it had. Sure, he didn’t like the heat, but the warmth from North’s coat was far from uncomfortable—it was warm, and cosy, much like he was being hugged by the man himself.

Giggling lightly, giddy, he pulled the coat on properly, elatedly realising that the sleeves were far too long for him, stretching far longer than his hands, his thin arms completely covered by the man’s very large sleeves. The elves had started gathering around him, interested in what he was doing, giggling and talking amongst themselves as Jack wrapped the coat around him. Grinning brightly down at the elves, he turned in a circle, the far too large coat flaring out behind him as he turned. The ends settled onto the ground when he stopped, far longer than Jack’s body.

“What do you guys think?” he chuckled, and the elves cheered happily in approval. “Pretty cool, right?” grinning, Jack looked around—and his joy further heightened when he saw North’s hat hanging off a model toy plane hanging from the ceiling. He reached up for it using his staff, knocking it down, and it landed cleanly on top of his head.

One of the elves was happily chattering at his place near the wall, and Jack turned his head to see North’s swords in their scabbards, hanging from a large nail driven into the wall. He looked down at the other elves, and all of them grinned up at him.

“Should I…?” he asked, and they all nodded, the bells at the end of their hats chiming as they did so. Jack’s grin was outright wide with giddiness, and he bounced on the heels of his feet. “Oh, man. Oh, man, oh man, oh, man.” He grinned, as he bounced over to the swords. “This… this is so _cool_.” He breathed, gingerly reaching out for one of the swords. His hand wrapped around its handle and he shivered in delight.

“Here goes…” he grinned down at the elves, and he put his staff aside to take the two swords, carefully unsheathing them at the same time, but still accompanied with that satisfying grind of metal on metal. “This is _so cool_.” He repeated, awed that he was holding North’s swords in his hands. “Guys, this is amazing. I can’t, I can’t,” he giggled, bouncing on his feet, and the elves giggled along with him. “I’m _holding two swords_. How cool is that?” he hissed excitedly.

The elves chattered their agreement, and Jack’s grin widened, and suddenly he got into an offensive stance, the two swords held in a most threatening manner he could muster—well, as threatening as a barely-legal teen in an oversized red coat holding two very heavy swords could look.

“How do I look?” he asked, grinning, and the elves cheered in approval. Jack grinned, and the hat on his head slipped down, being too big for him, over one of his eyes. “O-oh, wait,” he stammered, raising his hand to right the hat—almost slicing an elf in two. It let out a scream of protest, and Jack stumbled around, stammering his apology. “S-sorry, little guy,” he managed to say, tripping over the hem of the coat as he tried to move forward the help the elf, succeeding only to fall face-down onto the floor, the two swords in his hands falling out of his grip and falling loudly to the ground. Jack bit his lip—was he making too much noise?

Getting up slightly and pulling the hat up with one hand, he looked around—North was nowhere in sight. Sighing in relief, he stood up, brushing himself and the coat off, before picking up the hat from the ground, putting it back on his head, a resolute look on his face. “Gonna try this again,” he told the elves, and he picked up the two swords, this time holding onto them a little more firmly, before getting back into the offensive stance. “Looks just like North, eh?” he grinned at them, and they all cheered in agreement.

“Let’s pretend Pitch is around. You guys know what’s up!” His grin widened, and the elves nodded, quick to be serious—it was playtime now, a time for happy fun pretend with the fun-loving Jack, who always knows how to have a good fun time. “Let’s defend the North Pole!” He began to swish the swords left and right, swiping at imaginary enemies as he heartily fought in North’s office, imagining Fearlings or Nightmares attacking. The elves ran around his feet, careful to avoid being stepped on or being flicked to the side by North’s coat hanging off Jack’s thin body. They pretended to fight, too, (amongst themselves, but really, it was the thought that counted) aiming to help Jack along with their little adventure.

“North would cut here, and then jab there,” he was narrating. “He’d beat every single Fearling that’d dare step in here no sweat!” he grinned brightly, thrusting the sword at an imaginary Fearling with gusto. “Pitch wouldn’t stand a chance against North!” he crowed, leaping up to stand on top of North’s chair, swords raised. “We’d win, easy as pie!”

The elves cheered, waving their arms around happily, and Jack laughed brightly, his smile wide and happy. “Yeah… North’s the best.” He sighed, sobering up, and he got down from the chair to sit on it, setting the swords down on the table as he pulled the coat around himself.

Sighing, he breathed in the scent from the coat—fresh mountain air, cool ice, warm, sweet chocolate and cookies, and a hint of vodka—North must be extra stressed out, Jack mused, grinning slightly. He knew about the man’s habits when he was pressured—he would eat more, and when desperate, he’d have a shot (or ten) of vodka to give him that necessary boost.

Pouting slightly as he remembered he wasn’t even allowed a single drop of the alcoholic drink, Jack snuggled into the coat and leant back in the seat, curling up in the warmth of the coat as several of the elves came up to him, carrying his staff. He smiled at them kindly and took it from them, before hugging it close to himself. “Thanks,” he murmured, as he hugged both his staff and the edges of the coat to himself, the hat on his head sliding down over his eyes, but he didn’t mind. “Y’know,” he spoke up, half-murmuring, “North’s like this… this big teddy bear.” He said, smiling slightly at the thought. “He’s round and fluffy and warm… and he’s the best.” His eyes slipped closed under the hat, as slowly his body relaxed into the inviting warmth of the man’s coat.

“He gives out presents… and he gave me one too, you know… he gave me a home… a family…” his voice lowered to a mumble as he snuggled up in the man’s large, large coat. “… Yeah, a family.” He uttered under his breath as sleep started taking over him. “North. My dad.”

With that, Jack fell asleep, and the elves, smiling to themselves, left the room to allow the boy privacy.

North had seen everything, though. He had noticed the boy peering into his room, and when Jack had entered, he decided to watch over what that young trickster was going to do.

Watching Jack’s antics caused warmth to spread in the man’s chest, and a warm smile was on his face when he silently entered the room, looking down at the sleeping winter spirit in his chair.

“Ah, Jack.” He sighed, shaking his head fondly, stroking the boy’s hair gently. “You are very much like a son to me.” Gently, he picked Jack up and carried the spirit to his room, where he lowered Jack onto his bed without bothering him. “You little troublemaker,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he looked down at his coat, still slung over the boy’s body. “You dear, sweet little troublemaker.” Chuckling fondly, he planted a feather-light kiss on the boy’s forehead before making his way to the door.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, watching golden sand trickle into the room from outside, a smile crossing his face. “My dear little _snezhinka_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry I tried and I don’t know if this is up to par but my father/son north/jack feels sobbing
> 
>  
> 
> Also snezhinka = snowflake yeah hahaha


End file.
